I, Hardy in name, hardy in nature, a proud political reformer, servant to working men, craftsmen, stumble through London. A waft of diseased mud from low tide tries to hold onto me with afflicting memories, my lost progeny, six lost tots. I fly along Watling Street, up Ludgate Hill, drunk with hope. I, the shoemaker,…
I love my work. I own the magician’s magic and uncanniness, the surgeon’s artistry and dexterity, the butcher’s rapaciousness. It’s about skill, fearlessness, muscle, a sparkling eye, a shining knife. Be systematic, it’s also about control. This is how it is done. Smack the chestbone to rob the heart of its breath, it quietens the…
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Text & stories © Joanna Sterling
Stories © various authors
Editing by Joanna Sterling & Alyson Faye
Audio by Menna Bonsels
Brooch photography by Mark Colliton
Website by Brighton WEBtech